


fixation

by wouldyouknowmore



Series: Uncle Loki [1]
Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Human, Incest, M/M, Some light D/s themes, uncle loki, which should be its own tag if it isn't already
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-08
Updated: 2019-02-08
Packaged: 2019-10-24 05:10:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17698262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wouldyouknowmore/pseuds/wouldyouknowmore
Summary: Thor's got it for his Uncle Loki,bad, and he's almost certain that Loki's just as into him. The problem now is getting Loki to do something about that.“What is this, Thor?” Loki asks again, voice low and, well,dangerousis the only word for it. And he doesn’t stop there this time either, taking a step closer (Thor does his best not to flinch), and another (Thor definitely flinches), until Thor is faced with the decision to let himself be backed against the wall or to stand his ground. But he’s come this far, hasn’t he? And it’s not like Loki is ever going to do more than give him that look over the dinner table at family gatherings that makes him want to crawl out of his skin, not unless he takes matters into his own hands, right?





	fixation

**Author's Note:**

> WHO CAN I BLAME FOR THIS
> 
> (spoiler alert: it's Tess the Uncle Loki Queen, Wendy the DM Instigator, and Hussy the Enabler)

Thor is crazy. 

 

That’s the only possible explanation here, the only conceivable reason for how he could have wound up in this situation. He’d known that this was a terrible idea right from the start, even when he didn’t really have a goal in mind… but he’d also known that this—this _thing_ he had for his uncle wasn’t going to go away anytime soon, and that he definitely wasn’t imagining the heated, hungry looks that Loki had begun to send his way. 

 

He’d tested it, after all. A little lingering look through his lashes here, a postponed shower after football practice there, even an offer to mow Uncle Loki’s lawn (all ten square feet of grass in front of his condo)… and oh, yes. There was interest. Inexplicable, but definite interest. He’d taken a good hour and a half to edge the sidewalks and trim up the hedges _just_ right that day, and despite his previously well-documented aversion to the heat, Loki had sat there on the front step right in the sun the whole time, face shining with sweat, very obviously watching Thor from behind those Wayfarers. 

 

So Thor had decided to push it, test the waters, see just how far Loki was willing to let this go. Just a little. 

 

But as he’s established, he’s crazy, so ‘just a little’ has turned into. Well. A lot.

 

“Thor, what is this.”

 

Loki is glaring at him, looking far taller all of a sudden despite the half an inch Thor has on him and far more attractive than he has any right to be, and Thor freezes up for just a moment. He’d rehearsed this, _shit shit shit…_

 

“I, uh,” he starts, then pauses, dripping on the bathroom rug while he tries to remember his story. God, what was he thinking… but right, right. Okay. He can do this. 

 

“I locked myself out of the house after practice, right?” he tries again. “But I still remember the code to your garage and figured you wouldn’t mind if I—”

 

“If you used half of my shampoo and made a mess of my bathroom,” Loki finishes for him, then crosses his arms. But Thor can work with that, he can work with that. It doesn’t necessarily mean Loki is angry. And besides, it definitely means that Loki can smell his own shampoo on him, and hopefully that’s doing something for him here, as intended. 

 

(It certainly had for Thor, anyway, and the shower had been an exercise in self restraint. It was all too easy to get distracted by that familiar scent around him and reach down to palm himself, especially considering the fact that he’s been sporting a semi since the moment he’d let himself in, wound tight from the anticipation… but patience is a virtue after all.)

 

“You could have called someone,” Loki continues—and _there_ , he’s finally looked away from Thor’s face, downward, over his chest and stomach, and in spite of himself, Thor holds onto the towel wrapped around his waist a little tighter, very conscious of the tent in it now. 

 

“Locked my phone in the house too,” he says. 

 

Loki raises an eyebrow, appreciative or skeptical, Thor isn’t quite sure, and says, “Convenient.”

 

“Mmm-hmm.”

 

The quiet stretches between them while Thor fights the urge to fidget, but it’s next to impossible under Loki’s appraising eyes. The scrutiny is torture, but instead of discouraging him, it’s only making his heart pound a little harder in his chest, making his cock swell a little more beneath the towel. It twitches when Loki’s gaze lands on it—and then, something changes in Loki’s face, something so minute that Thor might never have noticed it had he not been desperately looking for any sort of sign from him. 

 

When Loki looks him in the eye again, Thor changes his opinion. 

 

Loki is definitely angry.

 

“What is this, Thor?” he asks again, voice low and, well, _dangerous_ is the only word for it. And he doesn’t stop there this time either, taking a step closer (Thor does his best not to flinch), and another (Thor definitely flinches), until Thor is faced with the decision to let himself be backed against the wall or to stand his ground. But he’s come this far, hasn’t he? And it’s not like Loki is ever going to do more than give him that look over the dinner table at family gatherings that makes him want to crawl out of his skin, not unless he takes matters into his own hands, right? 

 

Loki stops just inches from him. If he so much as tilts his hips in Thor’s direction, he’ll brush up against his erection. Thor sends out a silent, fervent prayer to anyone that will listen, begging for him to do just that. He’d give anything, fuck, please, just let Loki _touch_ him… 

 

But he’s been asked a question, he remembers, and it’s a verifiable miracle that his voice doesn’t shake when he replies, “What does it look like?”  


 

He’s either made a very poor decision or an excellent one, because from this close, he can see the flash of Loki’s eyes, even the little flare of his nostrils as he processes this, and it’s clear that keeping his cool, collected demeanor intact is putting a bit of a strain on him. 

 

_Good,_ Thor thinks recklessly.

 

“It looks like you need a lesson in respecting boundaries,” Loki snaps, but still, agonizingly, he keeps his hands to himself. “I’ve put up with all your attempts to get my attention for long enough, and I suggest you give it up now before you regret it.”

 

Before Thor can say anything else, Loki takes a step backward and adds, “Go home, Thor, and get over this little fixation,” and contrary to his words, it does _not_ feel like a suggestion. 

 

But Thor hasn’t gone to all this trouble for nothing. 

 

“Make me,” he says. 

 

And for just an instant, he would swear that he hears a warning siren somewhere. It happens between the undisguised shock appearing on Loki’s face and the millisecond afterwards that it transforms into something predatory, something cold and furious and wildly arousing all at the same time. Thor barely has the chance to wonder what he’s done before his back hits the wall and Loki is in his face—close enough to _kiss_ , Thor realizes, awestruck, but when he goes for it, self-control be damned, Loki only leans back out of reach. And when he tries to follow, Loki just shoves him back to the wall with a hand on his chest. 

 

“No,” he says. “If you want to do this, you’re going to do as I say.”

 

Holy shit, did this actually _work?_

 

Thor nods and nods, and nods a little more just to be on the safe side. “Absolutely, yes, whatever you say,” he insists. “Anything at all, please—”

 

“Then shut your mouth, get dressed, and get out.”

 

Thor gapes. 

 

This is a joke, right?

 

But Loki doesn’t look like he’s joking. 

 

“What—”

 

“I don’t like to repeat myself,” Loki interrupts. His face is unreadable, calm and neutral once again, and… and all of a sudden, _Thor_ is the furious one.

 

Loki gives him a warning look that practically screams _danger_ when he slaps his hand away, but Thor is too angry to care about that now. This was a terrible idea, he _knew_ it, and somehow, it’s turned out even worse than he thought it could. A gentle letdown and a pitying look, that he could have handled. But this…

 

His clothes are still in the floor, so he snatches them up, shoves past Loki into the bedroom, and pulls his shorts on without so much as a glance behind him. Let Loki ogle his ass all he wants; he doesn’t give a shit now. The shirt can wait, too, as long as he gets out of here in the next three seconds. 

 

Just when he hits the front door, Loki calls out after him, “Oh, and Thor?” and he only wishes he could ignore it and keep walking. He manages not to turn though, and pauses in the doorway, breathing hard and hands shaking.

 

“Don’t even think of touching yourself when you get home,” Loki tells him. 

 

Thor slams the door shut behind him, hard enough that he can hear a framed picture fall off the wall and crash into the floor inside. 

 

 

———

 

 

The next day, Thor is still fuming. He’d gone for a run as soon as he had left Loki’s and hadn’t headed for home until his lungs were burning and the stitch in his side was just short of excruciating. And when he’d gotten there, his mother had taken one look at him and demanded that he take a shower. Another one.

 

Which was fine by him. Just fine. The lingering scent of Loki’s shampoo didn’t bother him one bit, but he’d scrubbed it out three times just to be safe. And if the memory of Loki inches away and looking as though he’d like nothing better than to devour Thor whole had left him aching and hard again, he could ignore it. Not because Loki told him not to touch himself, either. He just didn’t feel like doing anything about it. 

 

And he doesn’t now either, still lying in bed even though it’s nearly noon. It’s Saturday and he’s eighteen. He’s allowed. Just like he’s allowed to pout if certain amorous endeavors didn’t go his way. 

 

“Thor, sweetie, are you awake?” 

 

And there’s his mom at the door. He could keep quiet, pretend to be asleep, and she’d probably walk away… but he’s going to have to rejoin the land of the living at some point, he supposes.

 

“Yeah,” he sighs. “Come in.”

 

Frigga’s smile is warm and soft when she leans in through the crack in the door, and exactly what he doesn’t need right now, not after he’d tried and failed to seduce his own uncle. 

 

… Shit. What if Loki tells his parents?

 

“Are you planning on getting around anytime soon?” she asks, and when he nods, stomach churning, she adds, “Good. Uncle Loki is here. He says you offered to help him with something today.”

 

He can feel the blood drain from his face, right as Loki speaks up down the hall. 

 

“I believe his exact words included ‘yes’ and ‘absolutely,’” he says, and Thor can hear the grin in his voice. 

 

“Well, then, better get a move on,” Frigga tells him. 

 

It sounds like nothing but another terrible idea. But even though he’s still angry and disappointed and thoroughly embarrassed, he can’t deny the fact that the sound of Loki’s voice sends a little thrill up his spine, especially quoting his own words back at him… And if this only ends in more frustration, the very, very slim chance that it might not is really all Thor needs to drag himself out of bed. 

 

“Tell him I’ll be out in a minute,” he says. 

 

 

———

 

 

Loki drops his pleasant smile the moment they’re alone in the car (it was clearly put on for Frigga’s benefit), but he says nothing. And when Thor opens his mouth halfway across town, a sharp look from the corner of Loki’s eye is all it takes to have him snapping it shut again. 

 

God, he’s in trouble, isn’t he?

 

But Loki looks like he’s stepped out of one of Thor’s wettest dreams today, hair falling in soft waves over his shoulders instead of slicked back like usual (with more product than Thor really believes is necessary, but he’s _never_ going to point that out), one more shirt button undone than is probably polite, and wearing a pair of pants that had to have been tailored to fit that way, hugging his ass and thighs like they might pop a seam at any moment.

 

He follows Loki inside when they’re back at his place, and does not comment on the empty spot on the wall of the foyer. There’s no sign of shattered glass left now, but he isn’t surprised about that; Loki’s been neat and organized as long as Thor can remember. He’ll have to apologize for breaking it eventually though… but _after_ whatever this is resolves itself.

 

“Have you eaten?” Loki asks, not even looking at him as he wanders into the kitchen, and Thor supposes he’s allowed to answer. 

 

“No, not yet. But I’m alri—”

 

“Sit.” 

 

Loki points to one of the barstools at the high counter and opens the refrigerator, still never looking up at him once. 

 

Thor hesitates a moment. He doesn’t know what he expected to happen here, but this was _not_ one of the possibilities he’d considered on the ride over. (Loki pulling over as soon as the house was out of sight and blowing him there in the passenger seat was a favorite scenario, but highly improbable.) More than anything, he figured he was in for a stern talking-to, but if that’s what this is going to turn into, he doesn’t see why Loki sees the need to feed him before he rips into him. 

 

… And Loki is now staring at him over the open door of the fridge, his thin lips set in a frown.

 

So Thor sits, and within just a few quiet, awkward minutes, there’s a sandwich on a plate in front of him.

 

“Eat,” Loki says.

 

It looks good, it really does, but the waiting and the anticipation are rapidly turning into more than Thor can bear. “Loki, please, just tell me—,” he starts, but Loki just sets a glass of water on the counter next to his plate and talks right over him. 

 

“I’ve told you already that I don’t like to repeat myself. Now you can either go back to the car, and I’ll drive you home and never bring this up again, or you can shut up and eat your sandwich and join me in the next room when you’re finished. Is that perfectly clear?”

 

For just a second, Thor considers asking another question ( _are you serious,_ and _is this real life_ come to mind), but then he realizes just how big a mistake that would be, so he nods, picks up his sandwich, and takes a bite. 

 

“Good boy,” Loki says, his scowl turning into a little half-smile, and then he heads into the bedroom, leaving Thor sitting there at the counter, stunned.

 

And also outrageously turned on. 

 

He can’t believe this, he thinks, chewing slowly. _This_ is what he’s gotten himself into? Being bossed around and _good boy_ ed and… and he has to bite back a whimper at the thought of what else he might be expected to do, what else could earn him another little grin like that, another quiet _good boy_. Oh, and he wants that, he wants it very much. 

 

The sandwich, while delicious, is gone about four seconds after Thor realizes that it’s all that’s keeping him from finding out what comes next, and then he nearly runs straight into the bedroom with his mouth still full before he takes a moment to think. He can’t get ahead of himself here. So he rinses off the plate in the sink, stacks it next to another one on the dish rack, and drains his glass only slightly slower than he’d scarfed his sandwich. 

 

Okay. Surely he’s done alright here, surely that it’s been enough time for Loki to… do whatever it is he was going to do in there, so Thor tries to shake off his nerves, straightening his shirt and picking at his hair uselessly. He’d thrown it in a messy bun at the back of his head before leaving the house, and after he unties and reties it three separate times, he figures that’s about as good as it’s going to get, and he’s probably just stalling now. 

 

Yeah. He’s stalling. 

 

But it’s go time now. He can do this. This is what he’s been waiting for, been working toward… he’s got this. And he’s never had any complaints from previous partners (all two of them, granted… and he’s not really sure that thing with Fandral counts, but that’s beside the point), so he should be fine. Right?

 

Loki is draped over the armchair next to his bed with more elegance than Thor could possibly dream of possessing himself when he steps into the bedroom, a book open in his lap. Thor does his best not to shake, but Loki takes his time finishing up a paragraph and setting it aside before he looks up, just enough time for Thor to adopt some semblance of confidence. 

 

“So,” Thor starts… and stops when he can’t think of anything else to say. 

 

“So,” Loki agrees. “You’re sure about this, then?”

 

He’s sure that he’s out of his depth here… but he’s also sure that if he can just get Loki’s hands on him, finally, he’ll be just fine. 

 

“Yes, sir,” Thor tries, hoping he’s got the hang of this, but Loki just makes a face. 

 

“None of that.”

 

“Oh, sorry. I thought…”

 

“And none of that either. Clothes off, on the bed.”

 

Thor’s heart nearly stops for a moment, but it makes up for it by pounding frantically once it kicks back into rhythm. But this exactly what he wants, and once he tugs his t-shirt over his head and steps out of his jeans and boxers, just having Loki’s eyes on him leaves him harder and more desperate than he’s ever been in his life. And Loki is looking his fill, too, eyes hungry, and his slim-fitting pants do nothing to hide his arousal. 

 

This is really happening, isn’t it, Thor thinks, absolutely astonished. 

 

But Loki hadn’t specified how he wanted him other than just on the bed, and while Thor hesitates, trying to anticipate what he might prefer, Loki climbs to his feet and slips up behind him. The first touch of his cool hands on Thor’s hips is a revelation, light and gentle and enough to have Thor shivering full-body, and then the brush of Loki’s lips at the back of his neck, his hair against his bare shoulder, the hard line of his cock through his pants pressing against his ass… 

 

“Loki, please,” Thor gasps. It comes out a little whinier than he intended, but he can’t care about that now. He needs something, _anything_. 

 

“Please what?” Loki asks, just before his teeth graze behind Thor’s ear.

 

_“Shit_ , please, just. Touch me, _please_ …”

 

“I _am_ touching you.”

 

He rakes his nails up Thor’s sides to prove his point, and fuck if that doesn’t leave him far less steady on his feet. Loki’s going to make him spell this out, it seems, but he isn’t sure that he’s quite capable of that at the moment. 

 

“Let me kiss you,” he begs instead and tries to turn, but Loki just holds him still. 

 

“I’m not sure you’ve earned that,” he says, breath ghosting against Thor’s ear. “Not after that little stunt yesterday. But then again…”

 

He pauses, apparently giving the matter some consideration while Thor tries to regulate his breathing and bites his tongue to keep from pleading even more, and half a moment later, Loki is tilting Thor’s chin back over his shoulder, and tilting his own head forward to press their lips together. 

 

It’s brief, and the angle is awkward, but Thor finds himself letting out an almost pained little noise against Loki’s lips all the same, and then another when Loki pulls away far too soon. 

 

“There,” he says, then leaves another little kiss at the side of Thor’s throat that makes him weak in the knees. “After all, you may not want to kiss me after I’m finished with you. Now get on the bed.”

 

… Oh.

 

Thor wastes no time in complying, but when he stretches out on his back, settling into Loki’s plush bedding, Loki just shakes his head and makes a little twirling motion with one hand. 

 

“No, on your front.”

 

… _Oh_.

 

“And no touching, either,” Loki adds while Thor rolls over. “Yourself or me.”

 

That has to qualify as cruel and unusual punishment, Thor thinks, but he doesn’t dare protest. Maybe he can just find a little friction against the mattress, get a little relief that way—and then Loki’s hands are on him again, hauling him up to his knees while he scrambles to brace himself on his elbows.

 

Oh, come _on._

 

But, _fuck_ , Loki is kneeling on the bed behind him, nudging his legs open a little wider—this is really happening, it really is—and then his hands slide up the backs of Thor’s thighs, over the swell of his ass, spreading his cheeks apart…Thor waits, holding his breath, and just when he begins to worry, starts to feel a little self conscious about being on display this way, the flat of Loki’s tongue slides directly over his asshole, and Thor’s jaw drops. 

 

“Ooohhhmygod,” is all he can get out, and then it happens again, and again, and again until Thor’s broken out in a sweat, face buried against his forearms and toes curling. It goes on for what feels like hours, Loki lapping at him one moment and sucking the next, pointing his tongue and pressing hard but never quite pressing _in_ , just enough to keep Thor arching his back and silently begging for more. 

 

He hasn’t forgotten what he was told about touching, but he doesn’t know how much longer he can keep from it. His cock is dripping now, he sees when he manages to look down, leaking all over Loki’s nice duvet cover beneath him and making a mess, hanging heavy and throbbing and, god, he only needs a little bit, just a quick stroke or two to take the edge off, that’s all… What’s Loki going to do if he does, anyway? Walk away and leave him like this? 

 

Thor freezes with a hand halfway down his chest. In all likelihood, that is _exactly_ what Loki would do. 

 

“Please,” he pants again, fisting his hands in the covers to keep them from wandering. “I need…”

 

Loki pulls away then, but replaces his tongue with the pad of a thumb, rubbing slow, teasing circles around his spit-slicked rim and lower, and asks, “What do you need?” His voice is low and breathy now, and the sound of it has Thor shuddering all over. 

 

“Anything,” he begs. “More… please, fuck, _anything_ …”

 

That thumb presses into the space behind his balls, and Thor chokes out a groan, his knuckles turning white where he grips the blanket. 

 

But Loki takes pity on him, and Thor makes another noise that would probably embarrass the hell out of him if he weren’t so desperate when an even slicker finger circles once, twice, and pushes into him. He never heard Loki produce the lube, but he’s grateful for it and the sweet, slow slide as Loki eases out and back in, and again, and then with a second finger and a nudge _just there_ that has Thor’s eyes fluttering shut and his dick pulsing out another bead of precome.His other hand starts to roam as well, sliding over sweaty skin and pausing every so often to pay attention to sensitive spots that Thor didn’t even realize he had and others that he knows very well, like when Loki brushes over a nipple and he feels that curl of heat in his belly tighten up a little more.

 

He’s beginning to wonder if he could come from just this, if Loki expects him to… but he’s also starting to think that, since Loki obviously knows what he’s doing, maybe he could just sit back and trust him to make this as good as it could be. 

 

And it’s already _very_ good. 

 

(Not that that changes the fact that he’s still only barely fighting the urge to get a hand around his aching cock. He’d be done in two seconds flat, though, and Loki’s probably going to fuck him soon. Hopefully. He’s got to last long enough for that.)

 

Maybe it’s because Loki feels him relax into it just a little, Thor doesn’t know, but Loki bends over him then, curls sweeping over Thor’s back, and starts to mouth at his shoulders while his fingers twist and slip in and out. “Is this what you needed?” he asks quietly.

 

Thor nods, presses back into Loki’s hand.

 

“And what else?”

 

Another graze over his prostate, and Thor gasps. Loki’s expecting too much of him if he thinks he can speak coherently now, but he tries anyway, and his mumbled, “Fuck me, please, _please_ ,” seems to do the trick. 

 

“I think I just might, since you asked so nicely.”

 

_Finally,_ Thor thinks, not daring to say it for fear of what sort of punishment that might earn him, but he does swear again as Loki slips his fingers out and leaves him too empty and clenching around nothing. But there’s the sound of a zipper behind him, oh shit, and then a wrapper tearing, and good god, Loki’s really about to fuck him, this is real, this is happening…

 

“Easy,” Loki says, resting a hand in the small of his back, and Thor realizes he’s holding his breath, digging his fingers into the blanket like he might tear it… right. So he takes a breath, shuts his eyes, and drops his forehead to his arms. 

 

“Good boy.”

 

It settles low and warm in his gut, just as low and warm and rich as Loki’s voice, and Thor lets out a sigh. 

 

(This is going to be a thing, isn’t it? … Oh well.)

 

Both hands now, taking him by the hips, and—oh, Loki’s cock, sliding over the crease of his ass, once, twice, slow little thrusts that have Thor panting and arching back. He wants so badly to look over his shoulder and see if it’s as big as it feels; he hasn’t been told that he _can’t_ , after all, but he’s fairly certain that catching Loki’s eyes right now would be more than he can handle, and he doesn’t want to risk it. 

 

But then one hand disappears, and Loki is pressing into him, and _fuck_ , it feels even bigger… close to too much, but if Loki stops now, Thor is going to just lay down right here and _die_. He keeps going though, and going, and going, until Thor is panting open mouthed, trying desperately to relax but failing. 

 

“Such a good boy,” Loki tells him again, and finally stills with his hips pressed against Thor’s ass. 

 

_“Mmnnph,”_ is all that Thor can say. 

 

The slow drag back out is a little easier, back in a little easier still, and even though Thor is certain that this is never going to feel like it isn’t just shy of way too much, right at the limit of what he can take, a few minutes (or possibly hours) later, he’s rocking back to meet every snap of Loki’s hips and huffing out a constant stream of _ahh, ahh, ahh_ s. 

 

He does finally work up the courage to take a glance behind him, and he was right about not being able to handle the view. “Oh god,” he mutters, dropping his head back to the covers, but he can still see Loki practically towering behind him, pants open and pushed down just far enough to be out of the way and shirt still neat and tidy, totally unruffled aside from the little sheen on his forehead and the way he’s breathing through his parted lips. Thor must look like such a mess in comparison with his ass in the air and hair falling out of its tie, sticking to his face. He’s sweating all over, and he sincerely hopes that Loki isn’t too attached to this bedding, because the puddle of slick beneath him where his cock is dripping constantly is probably ruining the duvet. 

 

But then Loki reaches around, slips a hand down his stomach, and Thor decides that the duvet is the very least of his worries. His fingertips barely graze over the head of his cock and down the length, and after this long, after all the neglect and the slow, exquisite torture, Thor can’t hold back a high, drawn out whine and another broken, _“Please.”_ But Loki’s hand keeps going and cups his sack instead, and it’s not enough and too much all at once… and then a gentle squeeze has him flat out sobbing into the covers. He can feel it building, and every nudge of Loki’s cock inside brings him that much closer, but it’s just… it’s not _enough_ , and he needs this so badly… He’s begging now, clawing at the blanket and angling his hips back—

 

“Come for me, sweetheart,” Loki says, honey dripping from every word, and finally wraps his hand around Thor’s cock. 

 

One firm stroke is all it takes to push him straight over the edge. Thor comes, overwhelmed and gasping for air, and Loki fucks him through it like every thrust will drag it out that much longer. And for a moment, Thor hopes it will, until he almost collapses onto the bed with his head swimming and heart pounding. Loki doesn’t stop, though, just keeps on fucking him into the mattress while Thor thinks that he’d be content to just stay here forever, face-planted in his uncle’s amazing-smelling sheets, getting railed within an inch of his life. 

 

But it’s clear that Loki’s close himself, and his grip on Thor’s hips is getting tighter and tighter, his breathing a little less controlled. 

 

“My lovely boy,” he pants, “my beautiful, lovely boy,” and Thor goes a little lightheaded with the thrill of it. God, what he wouldn’t give to do this again, to hear that again, and more besides… but Loki’s rhythm falters then, and Thor can feel the pulse of his cock deep inside as he comes, too, only slightly less life-changing than his own orgasm had felt. 

 

Loki stays where he is a moment, but not nearly long as long as Thor would like, and it’s a loss worth mourning when he eases out and leaves Thor empty again, and climbs off the bed.

 

With a sigh, Thor rolls onto his back, out of the wet mess he’s made beneath him, and watches while Loki gets rid of the condom and picks at a little stain at the hem of his shirt. He’s definitely big, even in this half-hard state, just as big as it had felt. Thor wonders what it would take to get that dick in his mouth one of these days, what sort of buttons he’d need to push to get Loki to shove it down his throat… but god, not right now. He’s too exhausted, and all he wants is for Loki to come back over here and lull him to sleep with more sweet words. 

 

But Loki heads for the bathroom instead, unbuttoning his shirt as he goes, and Thor tries not to be too disappointed. He hadn’t been given any indication that there would be more to this than just the sex, after all, and why would grown up, put-together Uncle Loki want to sit here and cuddle a horny, sweaty teenager… 

 

“Stay put,” Loki calls from the bathroom without looking before Thor can even sit up all the way, much less grab his clothes. 

 

Oh. 

 

Loki is down to a pair of dark grey boxer briefs when he comes back out several minutes later, a wet rag in one hand and a towel in the other, and Thor’s mouth goes dry at the sight of all that pale skin, the sprinkling of hair over his chest, the slim lines of muscle, good _god_. Thor only hopes he looks half as good by the time he hits his late thirties.

 

“You’re staring.”

 

Loki says it with a little smirk, because of course he knows, and since there’s no point in pretending otherwise, Thor nods and says, “Yeah.”

 

The smile he gets for that is mildly breathtaking. He’ll have to be so honest more often.

 

His protests that, really, he can clean himself up, are ignored, and in no time, he’s under a fresh sheet, unable to keep the stupid, lovestruck smile from his own face while Loki climbs in next to him. 

 

“We can’t stay here all day,” Loki warns him, but he’ll happily take whatever he can get before ehe has to go back home. And speaking of…

 

“Can I,” he starts, uncertain, “am I allowed to touch you yet?”

 

The exasperated look on Loki’s face isn’t completely convincing, and the way he rolls his eyes and leans over to kiss Thor makes it that much less so. He tastes of mint only now, not that Thor really would have cared at this point, and the little laugh that he lets out when Thor drags him down on top of him tastes even better. 

 

They kiss until Thor can hardly think straight, Loki letting him touch whatever he can reach, (though his hand is gently swatted away when he tries to slip it down the back of those boxer briefs), until Loki’s tongue in his mouth and his lips and his hands turn into one big, sweet blur of soft contentment. Even the low-burning ache of his arousal, slowly returning with every graze of Loki’s teeth over his bottom lip or his throat or his ear, is slow and lazy and comfortable, and when Loki pulls back to study his face a moment, Thor doesn’t chase after him, too blissed out to worry about it. 

 

“What am I going to do with you?” Loki asks him. 

 

Thor answers, “Anything you want,” in perfect sincerity, and Loki’s eyes flash with something far more hungry than the soft, warm look that had been there a moment ago. 

 

“Are you sure about that?”

 

And suddenly, the throb of Thor’s half-hard cock is a little harder to ignore. 

 

“Absolutely,” he says. 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I just needed to get it out of my system ok
> 
>  
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/woulduknowmore)


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